Love Never Dies
by Volturi Sisters Ari and Cassi
Summary: What if Marcus had his desired second chance to be with his beloved Didyme? Also, just how would Aro take the news that his sister is back? Most likely, not very well, which means Didyme Volturi had better watch her back, lest history repeat itself... again.


**A/N: Hi, I'm one of the two authors on this account which I share with my sister. We love **_**Twilight**_** (More the movies, not the books) so that's why all our stories are **_**Twilight**_** based. Now, I do not own **_**Twilight**_**, or the awesome characters of it *cough, Aro, cough*. On with the story.**

** Ari **

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**Prologue**

Despite all that he has done, and all that he has kept from me, if I were to be asked if I still loved my big brother, I would say yes. He is, after all, my brother; my flesh and bone, the last real blood relative I have, though the blood in our veins has long run dry- to a degree. Yes, he has his faults, but he is still family, and that is something that will always be important to me.

I do not however like him. Please be aware there is a difference- one can _love _something or someone but not _like_ said person or thing. I do not like him; not like I used to. There was a time I both loved and liked him, and would have followed him to the end of the world and beyond and back again without question, but not now. Now I cringe inwardly behind my smiles when I sense him near; there are more tears shed than smiles exchanged at each reunion and we've had many. From chance meetings in villages long forgotten by but a few in such places as China and Japan to the stone streets of France, England, and Ireland and places too numerous to name- I've met with him. We talk and laugh and share stories over what has been and what I hope would one day be.

And then they end abruptly with me be killed by him while being cradled in his arms. Each time, he assures me he doesn't want to kill me, but he feels he must, and I have long since tried to stop convincing him that the only thing in the world he truly treasures, other than myself, is not in danger of the one who seeks my killer, and must surely long for me as I long for him. Ever since he first rose up and slew me mercilessly, all those millennia ago, my brother has been fearful. He was power hungry at the time (and still is today, though age has mellowed him considerably) but quickly regretted his actions when he realized what he had done and immediately concluded that hiding his actions was in his best interest.

I do not know how I came back, but I did, and by chance we met just a mere twenty some years (not very long to one who does not age, which means my brother) after he killed me the first, and what I thought would be the only, time. At first he was thrilled, after the shock faded. I forgave him, and asked him to take me back to the others of our new family, so that I could again be reunited with my new brother and sisters… and my husband, my love, the one I miss with the ferocity of a million intensely burning suns.

That was when he snapped again in a way. He told me my husband, my mate, was searching the world for the one who bore my blood on their hands, completely unaware that it was the one he deemed his closest friend and confidant and sat not six feet from him on almost a daily basis. My brother told me that my mate, in reasonable accordance with our laws, would kill my killers mate in revenge for my wrongful death.

My brother was the last of our group to form a bond of unending love. His mate- a beautiful blond who complimented him so well, and was truly as kind with her sisters as she was catty with her husband and men in general- was my brother's world. I never saw him bend knee to anything or anyone, but he would let his wife use him as a literal footstool if she asked. I knew then where that conversation was heading, and in my frail human flesh, I did the only thing I could think to do to this thing that was both my brother of old, and a predator staring down his prey.

I begged. I dropped to my knees and the let the tears flow as I kissed his hand and promised him no harm would come to his love. I promised my brother my life, my freedom, and the guarantee that his wife would not die. After all, my husband most definitely was a creature fiercer than the noble lion when provoked, but just one word and he would be my tender young lamb with more loyalty than a dog that follows its beloved master into death. No harm would come to my dear sister in law, I promised him.

But it was not enough; his hold was loving and apologetic, but firm and final as he again spilled my blood. "My beloved sister, whom I raised and provided for when our mother felt you to no longer be her responsibility, I shall always love you, but even you must know… I am selfish to the end, and I will not lose her or the power which is so close that I can taste it, sweeter than honey, on my lips."

Those were his parting words, but I heard them again, and again, and yet again. They changed of course, to fit in with the wording of the time, and often were spoken in different languages (for I have been born in many different places) but ultimately it is still the same.

Only one thing has changed over the years; he does not kill me immediately when I am found, but indulges me in whatever I desire for a week, maybe two, depending on how old I am. He tells me of our family, their homes, the places they've been, and with great pride he finally told me of his greatest achievement- the domination of the Romanians and his rule of the vampire world. My coven of old is now called with reverence and respect, the Volturi. They reside in secret under the streets of Volterra, Italy, their permanent home; the place which I both long to be in and hope I will never see, for it holds both death for more than myself and a treasure I recall every night in my beautiful dreams.

Marcus; my mate, my love, my other half that I feel to be a lifeless shell without, lurks within that city of stone and blood. Aro told me he retreated into himself when he abandoned the search for my killer and grew worse each year until he was but a literal walking corpse; dead, shut off, and cold; permanently kissed with winter's icy, unfeeling, curse and doomed to forever be alive without ever living.

Unless, of course, if we could be reunited. I know if he were to see me, the life would return to his stone heart and it would again bring life to the heart I bare that beats solely because it has to; that I would no longer have to live façades from one life to the next. I know just one look on each other's face would bring back all we once had, for we have lost all except for one thing.

Love. Time may go on without us, kingdoms may rise and fall, but love, true love like what Marcus and I, Didyme Volturi, share will never fade for it abides by one simple truth.

Love never dies.

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**A/N: Please tell me what you think, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter.**


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